The Listening
by Zana Charleson
Summary: "Brother!" I shove open the door. A very surprised Basch looked up at me from his desk. "Um, Lili… is something wrong?" He moves his papers around nervously into a pile and turns his whole body towards me, full attention. "You need a haircut!" I state firmly. (Human names - family only)


**Hey guys! Its been a long time! I'm posting my stories that my sister and I have been working on, here on Fanfiction. We also post our stories on Tumblr, if you want to check out the full collection, our stories are called Hetalia Re-Told Tales. Also its fair to say your not going to find any YAOI or YURI in these stories (Sorry!) so just enjoy the story for what it is. -Z**

"Brother!" I shove open the door.

A very surprised Basch looked up at me from his desk.

"Um, Lili… is something wrong?" He moves his papers around nervously into a pile and turns his whole body towards me, full attention.

"You need a haircut!" I state firmly.

"Oh is that that it?" He laughs lightly. And turns back to his desk and begins to spread his papers again, picking up his pen and turning it around in his fingers, signifying he was about to get back to work.

"No seriously, you need to cut your hair."

He turned toward me again and this time with an icy stare in his eyes, the kind of face that to the normal person would seem like it was going to bore a hole through them. However since I have known him my whole life his trick at ending conversations doesn't affect me. It drives him nuts.

"There is no way in _hell_ I'm cutting my hair."

"Honestly you look like the hobo down the street."

"I do not! You know very well I have always had my hair this length."

"Yes you have. And I know the hobo down the street, his name is Sam, he's very nice and you do look like him."

"I don't care how well you know the hobo down the street… wait, how do _you_ know the hobo down the street. You shouldn't be talking to strangers. That's dangerous and he could hurt you."

"He's perfectly fine, I met him when we were doing the 'feed the homeless day' back in April with volunteer day at school. Now can you please cut your hair?"

"NO! Absolutely not! You know very well that I've had it since Mom and Dad…"

"Yes, and that's why you need to cut it. Mom and Dad wouldn't have wanted you to keep yourself tied back in the past. You're going to run for Student Council President next year aren't you? You cannot have longer hair than me."

"But our hair is the same length, remember you have kept your same hair style as me since then unless…"

"I'm going to get my hair cut too. I'm thinking about a bob." I rubbed the back of my neck feeling the medium length strands. Brother had me keep the same hair style since we were little when we essentially became orphans. Mom and Dad had a rollover collision which left them and our older brother in a coma for 4 years. We visited them faithfully every week knowing in our hearts that they would never wake up again. It was honestly a marvel they kept them on life support for so long but since we have no known relatives they kept them on life support until brother was 'old enough' to give them an answer. Now we do have a 'grandma'… she's not related to us but was out next door neighbor who took care of us when the accident happened, she's been like a Grandmother to us. Last year they took them off life support and ultimately died shortly after. Brother has essentially been in a state of constant mourning for those four years. This week is the one year anniversary of when they died. I think it's time to move on.

"You're not cutting your hair and I'm not either. We need to remember them."

"But you know that Mom and Dad would want us to go on and be productive, you know, live life. I waited for a year because that's the traditional period of grief before the family gets up and moves on. They're gone, and you're not going to see them again until you die too. Isn't it better to move on?! Sure I miss them, but I want to live! And living like we are in a coma isn't going to solve anything!" By this point I was yelling, I'm sure the neighbors were wondering what was wrong with me. I knew I was being too loud but I needed brother to understand.

He looked up at me with the saddest eyes, the kind that honestly looked like he had just heard the news our parents were dead again. "I just miss them. I feel like my hair is the only thing I have left of them."

By this point I had decided yelling wouldn't get anywhere with him. "I get that, but surely there is something better than hair? Honestly, you were twelve and the stylist messed up your hair and that terrible haircut just grew out by the time the accident happened. No need to keep it." I reached up and rubbed his blond butchered hair in between my fingers and looked at it for a bit. Why don't you keep that cross Mom gave you with you all the time instead of the hair. I mean, I know you love it but I honestly don't want to be going to school on the first day with a terrible haircut 'just like my brother's'."

He smiled a little. "It is pretty terrible."

I gave a light laugh back.

"This will sound strange, but can we keep my hair in a bag…until I can get over its loss?" he said slowly.

"Sure if that helps you. Now, you're fine with getting it cut so you don't look like a page boy from the middle ages?"

"Sure." He forced a smile back at me. I knew his hard exterior covered up his loss, I've known that since forever, but this is step one of recovering our little broken family. Maybe after some time we can go back to the house and start selling some stuff, we need that extra money.

"What do you think?" I ask twirling around with my new, slightly shorter bob. It was a relief to be released from that burden so that I could start fresh for my high school years.

Basch looked up at me and visibly cringed. "What, is it bad?" I ask, subconsciously touching my hair.

"No it's not bad, it's very…strait…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too." I smile a bit.

"Now," he let out a tense sigh, "it's my turn."

"And I will stand right next to you." I put my hand on his shoulder. "You can absolutely do it."

With that he was whisked off by the stylist and was asked various questions about his personality then asked what hair style he would like. To this question he promptly gave a blank stare. I looked over at the hair dresser and told her to do what she thought best. The hairdresser smiled and gave me a wink which freaked Basch out. He almost got out of the chair.

After that he answered the hair dressers questions with only stunned silence. So I talked to the hairdresser instead.

When the hair dresser was finally done my brother looked honestly gorgeous. They gave him a sort of modernized 50's hair style. After his initial panic and begging the hair dresser to put his hair into a bag, he stood up, looked at me, and instantly became his usual straight-forward and serious self. He thanked the hair dresser and walked out. He was finally back to his normal self.


End file.
